Christmas Wishes at the Chocolate Shop

by Jessica Redland

  ‘In some sort of clinic. Before Gabby, they’d tried for a baby for six years, during which time Lillian had two miscarriages and a stillbirth at seven months. Their relationship had understandably been strained to breaking point and they’d been ready to separate when Lillian discovered she was pregnant with Gabby. Pierre’s not the sort to walk out on his responsibilities so he stayed with Lillian, even though he didn’t love her anymore. Lillian couldn’t relax. She spent the whole pregnancy waiting for something to go wrong. When a healthy baby arrived, she became convinced that they’d still lose her, perhaps to cot death. She barely slept at night, constantly checking to make sure Gabby was still breathing. She’d managed to keep her worries from Pierre because she’d insisted on separate rooms so that he wasn’t disturbed by the baby crying when he had a business to run. One day, Lillian was playing with Gabby on the bed and, exhausted, she fell asleep. When Lillian awoke, she’d rolled over and realised that one inch further and she’d have smothered Gabby. At that point, she knew she needed some help so she checked in to a clinic where she was diagnosed with chronic pre- and post-natal depression and anxiety, or something like that.’

  ‘I understand checking into a clinic, but I don’t understand why she didn’t tell Pierre.’

  ‘Apparently she was worried that Pierre would see her as an unfit mother and, because they’d been on the verge of divorcing before she fell pregnant, she thought that he might still leave her and take Gabby from her. So she ran away and told him that Gabby wasn’t his to stop him from doing that. You and I both know that Pierre would never have done anything like that, but Lillian’s head was a mess and this seemed to make sense to her.’

  ‘Poor Pierre and Lillian,’ I said, my heart breaking for them. ‘That’s so tragic. I had no idea they’d been through anything like that.’

  ‘Nobody should go through anything like that,’ Stacey said, her eyes full of sadness. ‘Lillian had received a lot of help at the clinic, but I could tell she still had issues.’

  ‘What did you do? It must have been so awkward.’

  Stacey shrugged. ‘It was horrendous so I did the only thing I could do. I left. Pierre didn’t love her anymore, but they were still married and they had a baby together. Lillian needed him. Gabby needed him. I knew he loved me but I couldn’t make him choose between his family and me, so it was my turn to leave him a note.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Something like, “I love you too much to ask you to choose between your family and me. Be happy.” Then I packed my bags and caught the train to Spain. And kept moving. And kept moving. And kept moving. I thought that if I didn’t settle anywhere and didn’t form any relationships, I couldn’t get hurt again. And then I discovered that I was pregnant with you. I was nineteen, miles away from home, and I was alone.’

  Although she didn’t say the word, it was obvious to me that she’d also been terrified. I would have been in her position. For the first time ever, I felt empathy towards her. This wasn’t a woman who’d slept around and had no idea who my father was. This was a woman who’d loved very deeply and had sacrificed her own happiness so the man she loved could keep his family.

  She sipped on her wine then resumed her story. ‘I agonised over what to do but the only thing I was sure of was that Pierre had a right to know. I travelled back to Roussillon to tell him. I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him. I wasn’t even sure whether I wanted to go through with the pregnancy, but I couldn’t lie to him like Lillian had. My timing was horrendous. There was a festival on in the town and everyone was out in the streets celebrating. Pierre was there with Lillian and Gabby. I watched them for a while and they looked like the perfect happy family, laughing and fussing over the baby. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the one who broke that up and perhaps tip Lillian over the edge again, so I left town without telling Pierre.’

  ‘That must have been hard.’

  ‘One of the two hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.’ She looked down into her glass and lightly ran her finger round the rim. ‘You’ve read all my letters or just a few?’

  ‘All of them. I know you didn’t want to keep me.’

  She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m so sorry, Charlee. I would never have told you that as I can’t begin to imagine how awful it must be to hear that. I loved Pierre so much and the constant reminder of him and a love that couldn’t be would have been too much for me. I rang my mum in tears, telling her that I was going to come home for a termination and I wanted her to be with me.’

  ‘She talked you out of it, though. Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘I’d already pretty much talked myself out of it by the time I got home, so Mum didn’t need to do much convincing. I knew I couldn’t keep you myself, though. I mentioned adoption and that’s when Mum and Dad came up with the suggestion that I see how I felt after the birth and, if I didn’t change my mind, they’d bring you up instead. If that happened, I could be as involved or detached as I wanted.’

  ‘And you chose detached.’

  ‘You were so beautiful,’ she said, playing with her wine glass. ‘But you were your father. You were born with a shock of dark hair and olive skin and all I could see was him. So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I left. I kept on running, convinced that if I kept moving, I wouldn’t form any relationships and I wouldn’t need to think about you. I couldn’t break the home ties, though. I kept sending Mum postcards and letters. I made out that I had this amazing life that I’d never have experienced if I’d been burdened with an unwanted baby. I never asked about you, which you’ll know from reading my letters, but she wrote back and told me all about you. She sent photos, pictures you’d drawn at school, your first tooth, a lock of hair after your first haircut.’ Stacey paused and wiped her eyes. ‘I pretended I wasn’t interested. I never thanked her or acknowledged what she’d sent, but I didn’t ask her to stop. Instead, I moved on even more frequently so I had an excuse to write home again meaning news would follow about my little girl who was growing up without me.’ Tears trailed down Stacey’s face and she wiped at them, sniffing. ‘Sorry. I was determined not to do this.’

  I hadn’t realised I was crying too until she passed me a tissue. I’d hated her when I’d read those letters. I’d pegged her as selfish, self-centred, and heartless, never stopping to think that there was a corresponding set of letters that could tell a very different story.

  Stacey emptied the remnants of the bottle into our glasses. ‘I think we need another one.’

  Without waiting for a response, she strode up to the bar, giving me a chance to pull myself together before she returned.

  Silently, she topped up our glasses again.

  ‘When did you tell Pierre?’ I asked.

  ‘A person can’t keep running forever. I found myself back in France, in Paris. I liked it there. It felt like home so I decided to stay for a while. On the way to work each day, I passed a chocolaterie. Some days, I’d rush past it. Other days, I’d gaze into the window and allow myself a moment to think about Pierre and you. On this particular day, I looked in the window and they’d arranged chocolates into a large number six to celebrate their sixth anniversary. It was your sixth birthday that day. For six whole years, I’d been running and hiding and lying as easily as I’d been breathing. I realised that it wasn’t fair to keep the truth from Pierre so I wrote to him. He came to Paris to find out more and, after that, we stayed in touch. I’d send him duplicates of the letters and photos Mum sent me. It probably seems pretty strange to hear that you were in both our lives for all those years, yet you had no idea. Or at least I’m assuming you had no idea.’

  ‘As far as I was aware, you weren’t in touch with Nanna at all.’

  ‘I was. Regularly. For the next decade, I continued to move, although not quite as often, and I kept writing to Mum and passing on duplicates of her responses to the post box that Pierre had set up. Pierre and I met up when we could and he kept saying he wanted
to leave Lillian to be with me. I wouldn’t let him. I knew how painful it was to walk away from a child and I wasn’t prepared to let him do that to himself or to Gabby. I said earlier that walking away from Pierre without telling him about you was one of the two hardest things I’d ever done. Walking out on you was the other.’

  My head was reeling, not only about my parentage but how Stacey had felt about me for all of these years. I’d imagined she’d not given me a second thought and the letters had backed that up.

  ‘If you felt this way about me, why didn’t you come back to Brockington and become part of my life?’

  She sighed. ‘It’s a great question and I’ve asked myself the same thing over and over. At first, it was a self-preservation thing. Then it became more about Mum and Dad. I could tell from Mum’s letters how devoted they were to you and how much it meant having a second chance at being parents. They’d always wanted a big family and it never happened for them. How could I let them have one, two, three, six, ten years with you then waltz back in and stake my claim? It would have broken their hearts.’

  We sat in silence for a moment while I mulled it over. I could see her logic, but I didn’t think that Nanna and Grandpa would have reacted like that. I think they’d have welcomed her back and it’s not like they’d not have had a role to play in my life. They were still my grandparents.

  ‘I know what you’re probably thinking,’ Stacey said. ‘You’re probably thinking that I should have done it anyway. I thought about it constantly, but I never took that step and, as the years passed, it felt too late. If I had a time machine, perhaps I’d have done things differently. Actually, there’s no perhaps about it. I would have done things differently. I’m genuinely sorry for any pain or confusion I caused you.’

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I couldn’t say it was fine, and I couldn’t say she hadn’t really caused me any pain or confusion because, despite my main feeling being indifference, those two emotions certainly had featured over the years. I decided to change the subject instead. ‘How did Lillian find out?’

  ‘You were sixteen and had passed your GCSEs with flying colours. Mum and Dad took you out to celebrate and there was this photo of you jumping in the air. You know the one?’

  I nodded. ‘They got me to pretend I was at a graduation ceremony, as though I was throwing a mortar board into the air.’

  ‘You looked so happy. Pierre and I both loved that photo and he kept a copy in his wallet but Lillian found it. She only needed to glance at the photo to know you were Pierre’s so the truth came out.’ Stacey bit her lip and shook her head. ‘She went mad. She told him she never wanted to see him again and she’d make sure that Gabby knew what a liar and cheat he was. She told the whole town. They were a close-knit community and they looked after their own. Lillian was a fifth-generation Roussillon resident and Pierre was an incomer through marriage. The villagers boycotted the chocolaterie and his landlord tripled the rent. He had no choice but to close the business.’

  ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘He was distraught. Completely ostracised with no business left, Pierre packed up his belongings and moved to Hull. He wasn’t going to make himself known to you, at my request, but he thought that he could at least see you occasionally. When Dad put up the shop for sale, it seemed like fate had decided to give him a break at last. He’d hoped you would continue working at the shop after he took over but you’d decided to change direction so it wasn’t to be. Living in the same village, he regularly saw you around and you were still a frequent visitor to La Chocolaterie. The day you asked him if there was any chance of your old job back, he rang me in tears.’

  I remembered him being tearful when I’d asked and he’d apologised for being over-emotional saying he knew how much it would mean to Grandpa having me working back at the business he’d started. It seemed perfectly plausible.

  ‘Where were you at this time?’ I asked Stacey, trying to think about the destinations on the more recent postcards and letters.

  ‘Germany, Denmark, Switzerland, Norway. Pretty much everywhere. Pierre kept begging me to move back to Hull to be with him. I wanted to but it wasn’t that simple. I couldn’t be in your life anonymously like he could. I’d be recognised. Mum and Dad would see me. You might even recognise me if you’d seen photos of me. With hindsight, I should have just gone for it. So what if I was recognised? You were an adult. You could choose whether you wanted me in your life or not. You weren’t even living at home at this point so I wouldn’t have been jeopardising anything. But I faffed about and hesitated by which time Lillian had seen the light. She’d accepted that she’d walked out on Pierre without warning, declaring that Gabby wasn’t his, so she could hardly blame him for turning to another woman while she was away.’

  ‘So he took her back?’

  Stacey nodded. ‘Only because I was adamant that I’d never be with him. He was lonely in a strange country and he did still care deeply for Lillian, even if it was me who held his heart. And, of course, he loved Gabby. She’d decided she wanted to train as a chocolatier, despite showing no interest before, so they set up a new family home in Brockington and I missed my opportunity.’

  I sipped on my wine, so much unexpected information swimming round my mind. ‘So I worked next to my biological father and my half-sister for all those years, with no idea who they really were?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How did Gabby find out?’

  ‘Gabby’s quite a jealous person, as you’ll have noticed. She struggled to master the skills that seemed to come so naturally to you. Pierre would often stay behind after hours trying to teach her, and it frustrated her that she found it so hard. After a few years of struggling, she threw a strop one night and said something like, “How is it that I’m your daughter and I’m crap at this, but she seems to pick up new skills in minutes? Are you sure she’s not your daughter instead of me?”’

  ‘Ooh.’

  ‘Exactly. She’d hit the nail on the head, or at least in relation to the part about you. You know Pierre. His face is an open book.’

  I leaned back in my seat and ran my fingers through my hair. ‘I can probably pinpoint the exact time that happened. We’d never gelled but she seemed to go from being a bit snide to being a complete bitch overnight and I never knew why. I wonder why she didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Because she’d have lost the power. As long as you were just the employee instead of part of the family, she had one up on you. She’s not a very nice person.’

  Of course! Wow!

  ‘Is there anything else you want to know?’ Stacey asked when I fell silent.

  ‘Probably a million things, but I can’t think straight at the moment. That was a lot of unexpected information.’

  She nodded. ‘I understand. I hope I did the right thing coming to see you in person. I felt I at least owed you that.’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’ I sipped on my wine, trying to find the best way to broach the future. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  Stacey’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled with tears. ‘Oh, Charlee, it’s not my decision to make. I would absolutely love to be part of your life, but I’m the one who walked out on you and, as far as you were concerned, severed all contact. I have no right to turn up out of the blue and expect anything from you. I came here today with no expectations. The worst-case scenario, and one which I fully anticipated and deserved, was that you’d throw me out without letting me explain. And, believe me, I know you’d have been justified in doing so. The best-case scenario was that you’d allow me to buy you a drink and hear me out. I honestly hadn’t dared to think beyond that.’

  There was something vulnerable and endearing about her. Despite the anger I’d directed towards her from reading her letters, I was surprised to discover that I really liked her and I wanted to take the time to get to know her. And I knew that it wasn’t because I was desperate to cling to her simply because I wanted a family.

  ‘If I did let you be part of my
life, what might that look like? I asked.

  She put her hand over her mouth, and a tear escaped down her cheek. ‘Oh, Charlee, I really don’t know,’ she said. ‘It has to be what you want.’

  ‘But what do you want?’

  Stacey wiped the tear and took a deep breath. ‘It’s probably easier to say what I don’t want… or rather, what I don’t expect. I don’t expect you to call me “mum” because I haven’t earned that right. I don’t expect you to treat me like a mother figure because I know that your Nanna was that person and I could never and would never try to replace her. Perhaps we could spend a little bit of time together – or a lot if you want – and simply get to know each other. Who knows where that may go in the future. What do you think?’

  I sipped on my wine while I mulled it over. ‘I think that it’s been good to spend time with you tonight and find out about where I came from. I think my head is about to explode with so many revelations. I think I need some time to digest it. But…’

  Stacey’s face fell when I tailed off. ‘It’s fine. You can say it. I’ve done what I came to do and you now know about your past. We can leave it there.’

  I laughed. ‘It was actually going to be a positive “but”. I was going to say, but once I’ve got my head round everything and spoken to Pierre, I’d like to spend some more time with you and see where that takes us.’

  The relief on her face was palpable. ‘You really mean that?’ Tears spilled down both her cheeks this time.

  ‘I really mean that.’ And I did. I liked her and, more than that, I got her. I understood what had happened and why. I found myself wondering if I’d have done things differently if I’d been in her shoes and I wasn’t sure that I would have done. ‘I’m drained now, though. Do you mind if we call it a night?’

  Stacey smiled. ‘Of course not.’

  Drinks finished, we exchanged contact details and Stacey told me where she was staying. Her B&B was in the opposite direction to where I needed to be so we stood slightly awkwardly outside the pub, cheeks red from the alcohol, breath hanging in the cold night air. What was the correct thing to do in circumstances like these? Hug? Air kiss? Shake hands?